


Designation Bitch

by whiskysour (whiskygalore)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bestiality, Body Modification, Bottom Dean, Castration, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanisation, Humiliation, Kink Meme, M/M, Underage - Freeform, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21629554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskysour
Summary: John’s boys aren’t where he left them.
Relationships: Alluded Dean/Sam Dean/John, Dean Winchester/Bobby, dean winchester/omd
Comments: 5
Kudos: 143
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme





	Designation Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme underage filthy short-fill prompt. So, this is exactly that. Good old fashioned going-to-hell filth. Read the tags. Enter with caution.

John should have known he couldn’t avoid the tests forever. But still... he’d hoped. The last hunt had turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions and by the time he’d limped out of the hospital, and made it back to the motel room, the boys had been gone.

His one hope had been that the kids had gone into hiding. That they were holed up somewhere safe waiting for John to turn up. Unfortunately, Pastor Jim disabused him of that notion pretty damn quick. 

“You’re lucky the foster service even called Bobby,” he says. “Those boys could have disappeared into the system and you’d never have seen them again.”

“But they’re safe, right?” John says. “I mean... the tests...”

John can barely bring himself to ask. The damn tests have only been around for the past eight years or so, ever since a particularly nasty virus had gotten loose from some mad scientist’s lab and wiped out a huge amount of the domesticated animals in the US. Not just family pets either. The farm animals had fallen victim to it too, in huge amounts. It had been a disaster the powers-that-be had only found an answer to just before it spread worldwide. 

But, as far as the government was concerned, the crisis had come with a silver lining; a neat solution to their overpopulation problem. 

The testing is top secret. The government, led by the insane megalomaniac and his black-hearted army that John is sure aren’t human, insists the tests are all highly scientific. Every kid should be tested at the age of ten. No outsiders know how the results are calculated, although it’s obvious that the poorest kids are most likely to be in the ten percent branded animal rather than human. 

And the prettiest kids… they don’t do so well either. Rich people like owning beautiful things. 

Pastor Jim hums and mumbles for so long that John’s gut churns and he can’t help suspecting the worst. That one of his boys has been classified longpig. It’s not common, thank God, but over the past year or two a taste for young tender meat has grown amongst the elite that the government insists some unfortunate kids are just destined to satisfy. Once that brand is scorched into your kid’s hide you’d do best to forget they were ever human at all. John doesn’t want to think about one of kids being skewered on a spike and roasted over a fire, the centrepiece to some rich asshole’s barbecue, but once the image is in his head it’s hard to think about anything else.

Jim answers just before John starts begging. “Sam’s fine. Tested human, 100%.”

That’s the good news then. John can barely bring himself to ask. “And Dean?”

Jim‘s cheeks flush and he tugs awkwardly at his dog collar. “Dean... Bobby’s looking after Dean as best as...”

“Jim,” John snaps.

“Bitch” Jim says, not meeting John’s eye. “They tested him positive for bitch. Human... and canine.”

John’s glad he’s sitting down. 

“And he’s at Bobby’s?”

”Rumsfeld always was a tough old bastard,” Jim says. “And just as ornery as his owner. That damned virus never even touched him.”

John swallows hard at the implication.

“You best think long and hard before you go see them, John,” Jim says. “You’ve been gone near enough three months. Dean isn’t the kid you left behind. Not after they nutted him. Plus the rest of the surgery and the meds. He’s a bitch, John, pure and simple.”

John knows Jim is right. If Dean is a bitch he’s not John’s son any longer. Not the boy he remembers. Not a boy at all. He still has to see for himself though. 

Bobby’s junkyard doesn’t look any different from normal. Even Bobby greeting him with a shotgun in his hand isn’t that unusual. “You gonna cause trouble?” Bobby asks.

John just shakes his head. This mess isn’t Bobby’s fault. Jesus, the guy could have sold Dean off for a goddamn fortune. John should be thanking him.

Bobby drops the gun down by his side and motions for John to come inside. “Dean’s happy, John. Trust me.”

He looks it. His mouth hanging open, drool dripping down his chin and his eyes practically rolled back in his head. He’s naked, other than a thick leather collar buckled around his neck, and a chain leash hanging loose. He’s leaning over the coffee table, Rumsfeld, Bobby’s big old mastiff, pounding away at his ass. 

“Hey, Dad,” Sam says barely sparing John a glance. He’s sitting on Bobby’s sofa, a book ignored in his hand, as he avidly watches his big brother being fucked by a dog. “Watch, this is the good part, Rumsfeld’s about to knot him.”

Then Sam dumps his book, jumps up and walks over to Dean, scritching at the soft velvety ears that look like they’ve always been attached to his eldest’s head. “You love this, don’t you, Dean? Love old Rumsfeld shoving his fat knot in your cunt.”

Dean whimpers and whines and lets out a low howl when the big mastiff’s rutting slows down and his knot ties inside Dean’s ass. “Good boy,” Sam says, watching as the dog turns around and starts licking at paws, bored now that he’s bred his bitch. Sam’s rubbing his little dick through his pyjama pants and tweaking his big brothers nipples. It might be John’s imagination but he’s sure he sees milk drip from Dean’s puffy buds.

“Bobby says that we can keep one of the pups,” Sam says eyes lighting up at the thought. “Says that way Dean’ll be able to take a knot in his mouth as well as his cunt. How cool will that be, Dad?”

John watches from the corner of his eye as Bobby unzips his pants, and eases his fat dick out of his dirty boxers. Dean’s watching him too with glazed eyes, opening his mouth ready to suck down the older hunter’s thick cock. “Real cool, Sammy,” John says, swallowing hard as he imagines his bitch son’s soft lips wrapped around his own dick. “Real cool.” 


End file.
